The part of my job people often are befuddled by is wine judging. It is rather odd. A bunch of people with a high tolerance for tannins sit around, sometimes for days on end, spitting hundreds if not thousands of wines into buckets, all while ruminating on the wines' value in terms of precious metals.

Sometimes, we are encouraged to debate. Other times, it is eyes-on-your-own-papers. But we always taste and retaste blind and ultimately select two wines, a red and a white, that we deem Best in Show: the most accurate and pleasurable expression of a varietal, blend or style of wine, often regardless of price.

Never mind how subjective the whole charade is and the myriad variables that influence our decisions, from hunger and personal preference to upper respiratory infections that zap our sniffers. What's perhaps most odd is that no other consumable product goes through such a rigorous deductive process, and there is often no good reason for it other than market-driving competition.

That's why it was a breath of fresh phenols to serve as a judge in the fourth annual Livermore Valley Uncorked competition last week in Pleasanton. I got to eat as much cheese and cured meat as I wanted (prosciutto is a palate cleanser, I swear), all the while knowing that the competition benefits the Tri-Valley Conservancy, an organization that partners with landowners to preserve 4,200 acres of agriculture and open space -- more than half of that space is planted to vineyards.

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Part of the organization's mission is to help make agriculture economical by supporting and promoting the wineries in the Livermore Valley. Unlike the large-scale competitions I usually judge, which receive as many as 5,000 wine entrees and last for days, Livermore Valley Uncorked featured about 100 wines for us to sample over a period of five hours.

There was no palate fatigue, and the wines were all made from grapes grown in the Livermore Valley AVA, which includes Danville, Livermore, Pleasanton, Dublin, San Ramon and the eastern boundaries of Castro Valley and Sunol. So the comparisons were easy and fair. Winners will be announced March 12 at www.trivalleyconservancy.org.

For me, the afternoon became an education in the Livermore Valley terroir. Flight after flight, I was able to detect patterns in the sensorial and structural characteristics of the wines. I also was able to identify entire categories that shined or fell flat of expectation.

For instance, the sauvignon blancs were crisp and feminine, while to my surprise most of the cabernet sauvignons lacked length and complexity. The chardonnays would've satisfied most Rombauer fans, while the Italian varietal category simply killed it. How I longed for steaming bowls of tomato-spiked linguine during that scrumptious flight. It was my favorite.

Those wines were so good that they got me thinking about the grapes Livermore is most known for today -- the very California-centric zinfandel and petite sirah, perhaps -- and how that might change in the next decade.

Last week brought the opening of Rubino Estate, winemaker Chris Graves' much-anticipated 8,000-square-foot homage to Italy. At the same time, growers in the region are experimenting with more malbec and even planting tricky Italian varietals such as trebbiano. And when you think about how well tempranillo does in the area (thank you, Murrieta's Well), I wonder if we'll see a shift from the safety of chardonnay and cabernet sauvignon to the more exotic, food-friendly indigenous varietals of Spain and Italy.

Want to know where else Livermore is headed? Be sure to check out our special section devoted to the region, its vineyards, and tight-knit winemaking community on March 21.